


Trois fois

by kittenmichael



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, but there's a list of the words with their translation, im going to hell for that, it has french words in it, it's also in paris, oh and calum and michael are barely there, the end is so angsty, yay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-19
Updated: 2014-09-19
Packaged: 2018-02-18 00:52:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2329247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittenmichael/pseuds/kittenmichael
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>à tes souhaits<br/>à tes amours<br/>et qu'ils durent toujours</p><p>or; ashton and luke are the cutest couple in paris</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trois fois

**Author's Note:**

> you can find a translations here: 
> 
> http://fc01.deviantart.net/fs71/f/2014/261/9/b/ats_by_anthemforthehomesick-d7zmznu.png  
> http://fc09.deviantart.net/fs70/f/2014/261/3/a/la_premi__re_fois_by_anthemforthehomesick-d7zmxfv.png
> 
> (if anyone knows how to put links here please tell me)

 

**La première fois**

 

Location:  _a tiny street near Montmartre_

 

Paris is a city made out of dirty pebble stones, an overabundance of tourists and here and there, hidden behind the mass of limbs and sweaty skin and the thick layers of graffiti, a tiny miracle. Like  _le Notre-Dame_  (which isn't all that tiny),  _la Tour Eiffel_  (which definitely isn't very tiny) and pressed up against the wall of this particular street  _Luke and_ _Ashton_. They were, perhaps, the most beautiful miracle of them all with a light that shone as brightly as  _le soleil_ , the air surrounding them stripped of all oxygen and mixed with  _l'air d'amour_  instead. The mere sight of the pair convinced passersbye of Paris' magic more than any guide or even a kiss of their own ever could. The two boys were seated on a tilted wall which was covered, like the street itself, in pebble stones. Behind them a sentence was painted on the tiles, its white letters slightly faded.

 

_L'amour est mort._

 

The message failed to catch anyone's attention though what with a display of pure love only a few feet away. Theirs was not a love of  _coup de foudre_  where you throw one glance at the other person and  _know_ , where your skin starts tingling like there are invisible raindrops falling on your fingertips. No, Luke and Ashton  _grew_  to know. It all began with a forced introduction on their friend's behalf because Ashton had threatened to burn his Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle blanket if he didn't get introduced to that blonde sitting quietly in the corner of the room. (And no, that's not a case of  _coup de foudre_ , it was more a case of Luke having a quiff and Ashton really fucking  _digging_  quiffs.) That first exchange of words, which actually consisted of Ashton beaming uncontrollably and Luke stuttering and blushing before sending Calum glare because he had promised not to make him talk to people and to just let him enjoy the free booze by himself, was the beginning of a string of events that slowly turned Ashton and Luke into  _AshtonandLuke_. The oldest boy fondly remembered one episode of the transformation where Luke had  _tombé_  down the stairs and scraped his knees and Ashton had  _tombé_   _amoureux_.

 

Luke couldn't help but notice how everything seemed  _mise en place_ , his boyfriend's body draped over his lap when he doubled over in laughter. Ashton attracted gazes and shy glances which soon turned into  stares from anyone within a mile's radius like a lighthouse. His curls framed his face like the petals of  _un tournesol_ , his hazel eyes glazed with raw love and the skin around them crinkled from laughing too hard.

 

"Lukey," Ashton whined, his bottom lip poking out when he dragged out the last syllable. When the air finally got enough of savouring the wondrous timbre of Ashton's voice it passed it on the Luke's ear and the boy swore he could feel his eardrums tingling at the sound of his name tumbling from his lover's lips. Luke lived in Paris, he had heard the world's favourite language, he had heard street musicians pouring their whole being in the notes they sang and he had heard Ashton saying his name over a thousand times. It was still the most beautiful thing he had ever had the pleasure to hear.

 

"What?" He asked, his voice deep and hoarse compared to Ashton's. That was the only downside to knowing someone as mesmerising as Ashton Irwin, Luke thought, you would always feel so damn tiny compared to them. His boyfriend poked his cheek as if he could hear his thoughts, effectively cheering him up.

 

"Come closer," Ashton pleaded, his arms reaching out for Luke, before softly adding: "You're already sick,  _chéri_. It’s my job to keep you warm."

 

It was true that Paris got cold sometimes, even during  _l’été_. Its cold breezes  which were typical for this part of Europe had saddled Luke with a cold that had him sniffling every half a second. He thought it was disgusting, but Ashton insisted it was adorable and smothered him with affection.

"No, you'll get sick too."

Though protesting was pointless Luke did it anyway. He refused to be the one responsible for dulling the twinkle in Ashton's  _marrons_ / _verts_  eyes (their colour depended on the lighting. The lights of the Eiffel Tour, Luke had discovered, preferred hazel whereas the full moon coloured them green).  Ashton rolled his eyes at his boyfriend before tightening his grip around the squirming boy.

 

"Don't be silly, you know I never get sick."

 

He pressed a long kiss on Luke's lips, gently running his fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck.

"I have as much faith in my immune system as I have in this relationship," he announced proudly. "So stop complaining and crawl on my lap.

And Luke, never one to deny cuddles (especially not when Ashton was the one offering some) contently climbed on top of his boyfriend, nestling himself so he was enveloped in Ashton's warmth and protected from Paris' relentless breeze. With a tired sigh, he rested his heavy head on the older boy's shoulder, smiling when he felt his lips on his forehead.

 

"See? Not that bad, is it?"

 

Despite their smugness, Luke wanted to revel in Ashton's words because he could sense how much his boyfriend cared, the unfathomable amount of love expressed in letters and syllables. Instead of replying Luke pulled away, bringing his hands to his nose when he sneezed.

 

" _À tes souhaits_ ," Ashton whispered.

 

Luke sneezed again.

 

" _À tes amours_."

 

And again.

 

" _Et qu'ils durent toujours_."

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> hope you liked that :) 
> 
> there are three parts! please comment to let me know what you think (even if you're a guest!)


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